When He Was Strong
by authoressnebula
Summary: Sequel to How He Was Loved, 4th part in the Into the Night Together Series - A few words from a demon's mouth, and Sam starts to break. Dean refuses to let him, not after everything they've made it through.


_A/N: There will be two more after this one in this series, according to my muse. I wanted to thank everyone who's been so supportive and sweet with comments and feedback; y'all don't know the smiles it gives me. (And the happy conniptions my muse goes into because she gets proven right over me, but we won't go there.)_

* * *

Considering everything they'd been through, Sam really thought they should've been expecting this.

They'd taken their time the past couple of weeks, a few easy hunts here and there. It was mainly vacation, though, recuperation from the week of literal Hell for them both. Dean was getting stronger every day, mentally and emotionally. The nightmares were less, though still there. They'd both known that the road to as normal as they got wasn't going to be easy. So far, though, they were more up the hill than down, and when Dean smiled without being nudged into doing so with a joke, Sam felt like the happiest being on the earth.

Which was why they _really_ should've been expecting this.

Lilith hadn't forgotten them. Lilith had done everything _but_ forget them, but in all his work to help Dean remember who he was and help himself forget everything _he_ was, Sam'd let the thought of her coming after them slip from his mind. He'd had more important things to focus on, such as Dean not falling apart.

Of course, his oversight at this point might very well get Dean _ripped_ apart, and Sam wished he could move his hand to slap himself.

The spirit in the house had been easy to remove, and then the demon had appeared, only minutes before, pinning them both to the wall with ease. Sam tried to push his way off with his powers, but the demon merely held up a blade and pointed it at Dean, and Sam let any notion of freeing himself slip from his mind. "Good boy," the demon praised.

Sam spared Dean a glance and felt his stomach lurch. Dean looked _freaked_. More freaked than he had been in weeks. Freaked like he'd been those first few nights after Hell.

_Dammit_.

"C'mon, you've already had him," Sam said, giving the demon his best careless, insolent grin. "Besides, I'm the one you should be worried about. I'm the one that could zap you into oblivion."

The demon tilted its head, a young girl it had probably found a few blocks down. "You could," the demon agreed, before it smiled, looking innocent and predatory all at once. "But I don't think you'd get very far."

"Afraid your innocent host would stop me?" Sam asked, and any other time, it would. Except when Dean was threatened. All rules fell by the wayside when Dean was threatened.

"Wouldn't matter; she's already dead. No, there's a whole other matter you're not considering."

"And that would be?"

The demon smiled. "I've got Dean's life in my hands, could easily send him back to where you found him." Sam's stomach plunged. It turned to Dean then, who was breathing in shaking pants, limbs trembling despite the demonic paralysis. "Back to the void that never ends," the demon whispered, stepping forward and grinning at Dean's flinch. "Back to the meat hooks and the silence and the nothingness. Your screams echoing with no one to hear them. Alone for eternity. And I can pull you back as easy as-" It snapped its fingers, and Dean closed his eyes, a single tear trailing down his face.

"Get the _hell_ away from him," Sam growled, clenching his fingers. "I swear to god, if you don't back up, I'll-"

"It's kind of funny, you swearing to God," the demon said, and turned back to face Sam. "When I know for a fact that God wouldn't ever hear _you_."

Sam stared, his stomach lurching for a completely different reason now. Its attention was off of Dean, though, so Sam swallowed past his own rising fears and taunted it again. "By the time I get through with you, no demon, not even Lilith, will be able to hear you again."

"Ooh, tough talk from little Sammy," the demon cooed. "Of course, I'm not really surprised. You were bound to turn eventually. You can't fight the demon that you are."

And Sam's world fell out from underneath him.

* * *

Dean focused on breathing, focused on pulling himself back from the void the demon'd practically shoved him into. His eyes were closed, a welcoming darkness for once, and he made his ears listen to Sam, to the demon, because it meant he wasn't alone. He wasn't back there, wasn't strung out across nothingness, and he let his trembling fingertips brush against the wall behind him. Solid. He wasn't in any danger of falling.

_God_.

And then she – _it_ – spoke, and Dean's eyes shot open. Demon...?

The demon glanced over at Dean with solid black eyes. "He didn't tell you?" it said off of his confusion, and it seemed to smile even more at the fact. "Sammy, Sammy, _Sammy_, but you _have_ been a naughty boy."

The demon was almost in touching distance, and Sam could've grabbed it at this point, powers or no powers. He was leaning into the wall, though, and one look at his face explained why. He looked terrified for the first time since before Dean had died. Panicked, and his eyes darted up towards Dean, then immediately back to the demon. "I'm _not_ a demon," Sam told it, but his voice was anything but confident. "I'm not like you."

"Honey, with the amount of demon blood inside of you, you can't be anything _but_," the demon said. It leaned forward, its hand a mocking caress on the side of Sam's face, and Sam shuddered hard. "And you knew this well before Dean died. Hell, you knew it before you knew Dean made the _deal_. You knew he was dying for demon spawn-"

"Stop," Sam said, his voice shaking.

"-but you didn't tell him. An entire year, and you didn't tell him he was going to Hell for something that truly belonged there."

"Stop," Sam pleaded, eyes glistening now. The demon advanced even closer, and Dean's fear was melting into something else, something that felt familiar.

"Where do you think those powers of yours came from, huh? Just a little bit of demon blood, and bam, you're a psychic? No. The powers you've got are pure demonic." The demon brought the girl's lips almost right up to Sam's, and Dean instinctively pulled forward against the paralysis.

Sam's eyes were wide, tears welling and sliding down his face. He looked scared out of his mind, the big and bad demon hunter and protector long gone. Now he was pure little brother, trapped and helpless, in need of being rescued and protected.

And Dean felt the big brother part of him (and what part wasn't, when it came to Sam's safety?) surge to the surface and take over. "Leave him _alone_, you hell bitch," Dean seethed, muscles tense and taut as he fought the paralysis. His fingers slid away from the wall and towards the pocket they were near. If he could tug the fabric, he could get inside.

The demon didn't even spare him a glance, but merely stared at Sam hungrily. Sam seemed to hunch in on himself, and tried to pull away from the demon. "Lilith wouldn't be so adamant about hunting down a _human_," it whispered, and Sam flinched, looking small and defenseless and so damn afraid, and enough was _enough_.

"I said, leave him _alone_!" Dean shouted, and the demon whirled around in time as Dean's fingers wrapped around the now unscrewed bottle of holy water. He managed to jerk his fingers in the demon's direction, and his strength fueled by anger sent the water high enough to hit it in the face. The demon howled and staggered backwards, and both Dean and Sam fell away from the wall.

Even as the demon started regaining its equilibrium, Dean had Ruby's blade in his hand and was moving forward, sliding it home into the girl's heart. The demon stared in shock and flickered once, twice, and a third time for the charm before it died. The body fell to the ground, an innocent lost to something beyond its control, and Dean shuddered.

The wooden boards creaked, and his eyes darted up to Sam. Sam, who was staring at him, still looking just as afraid as he had before. His lower lip trembled, and he bit it almost viciously.

Then he turned and all but ran through the door. "Sam!" Dean yelled, hurrying after him. By the time Dean was at the door, though, Sam was down the stairs and moving out the front door. "Sammy!" he shouted again, almost tripping in his haste to get down the stairs.

It didn't matter. By the time Dean got to the front door, Sam was gone.

* * *

The gravel beneath his feet gave way to dirt, and then to pavement, cold concrete not yet warmed by the sun. It was early morning, probably not even past five or five thirty, and the air was still chilly.

That wasn't the only reason Sam was shaking.

He'd half managed to convince himself that his powers were good and noble. They'd gotten Dean out of Hell, had managed to save Ruby which had been mercy, right? Anyone else wouldn't have cared about a demon being cast into Hell or wherever it was Lilith had sent her, but Sam had. He'd felt compassion for her.

Or had it just been a demon wanting to help free a fellow demon?

God.

He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, shivering and shaking. He wasn't good or noble. For god's sake, he was the reason Dean had gone to Hell in the first place! Dean hadn't deserved to go. Not for him.

And now Sam was certain he was just one of the things Dean should fear, _would_ fear. One of the things that had hurt him in Hell, bound him and hung him on _hooks_ and tortured him-

Bile rose suddenly in his throat, and he had to swallow three times before it would subside. He was a monster. He was one of the things that had hurt Dean. He was one of the things they'd hunted for all these years.

His dad's last order to Dean suddenly made a lot more sense. Of course their dad had pieced it together, had known what Sam's visions were. What they would lead to.

He didn't realize he was swaying until he stumbled right and almost into a ditch. He hung his head and continued on, not even knowing where he was going. The thought made him actually stop, staring off into the distance.

Where would he go? Where could he go?

Maybe, if he had enough demon in him, he could draw the demons away from Dean. Draw Lilith off of him. Then take her out. Last two good deeds for the world: wasn't that what Gordon had said? And he'd wound up being right all along: Sam Winchester was a monster. One who should've been killed or allowed to stay dead.

_God_.

His best bet was to head back to the hotel. Gather his things and get out before he hurt Dean. Call Bobby, tell him to look out for Dean. Dean wasn't still one hundred percent on his feet, and the thought of leaving him alone, abandoning him, cut through Sam and made his eyes burn.

He had to, though. For Dean's sake. He wouldn't make his brother pull the trigger. Or worse yet, he wouldn't be the thing that put fear into his brother's eyes. The irony wasn't lost on him: he'd been trying to help Dean's fears be put to rest for weeks, and yet it was _Sam_ himself who was the worst thing to be feared.

He remembered the shiver Dean had given as he'd looked on the body of the demon's host. A demon who had threatened him, sent him into terror and fear and remembered pain, and Sam was just like that demon.

With his destination set in mind, Sam made his way unsteadily down the road.

* * *

Stupid little brothers who ran off. Stupid little brothers who ran off and left their frickin' _cell phone_ in the car. Stupid little brothers who ran because a demon said words that were intended to hurt.

Dean gritted his teeth and pushed the accelerator down harder. He'd gone slow through the roads around the house, back roads and any roads Sam might've taken to get out. None of them had had his little brother on them.

He'd packed up everything back at the house fast, called and left an anonymous tip with 911 about the girl, then had fled, looking for Sam. There'd been a small rise of panic in his chest, one part worry over Sam, the other part the fear he'd felt when the demon had pressed in towards him. Driving alone for the first time in ages, Dean couldn't help the goosebumps that went up and down his arm. He'd always been with Sam, for the past couple of weeks. _Always_. And normally, well, before Hell, this wouldn't have bothered him.

Guess he wasn't as close to normal as he'd thought he was.

Still, he wasn't pulling over, wasn't forced to take deep breaths, wasn't seeing the void in his mind. He was still driving, breathing only slightly harsh, eyes peeled for a stupid little brother who'd been keeping secrets for far too long.

Why hadn't the kid just _told_ him? It wasn't that Dean didn't know about the powers, after all. He'd known about the visions, what they'd thought had been a TK fluke, and everything else Sam could do now if he just thought and wanted to hard enough. He'd gotten into Hell, saved Dean, with those powers.

That didn't make him 'demon spawn', though. Not in Dean's eyes.

Demons tended to mix lies with the truth for the ultimate punch, and Dean knew that the psychic thing was true. Besides, they handled so much holy water, iron rounds, silver knives, that Sam should've had a reaction to one of them if he was a demon. So far, the only reaction he'd had was a small wince when he'd accidentally sliced his hand open with one of the knives. He handled the salt every night, set up wards and devil's traps, and nothing had touched him.

And somehow, in his wide eyed fear and urge to run away, he'd forgotten all of that.

Where the hell else would he go? Maybe a library to cool off...? Some restaurant? A cemetery?

No. He'd stopped going to libraries at all, now that he wasn't pressed for a deal breaking book. He didn't even go for research on regular hunts, and Dean was privately concerned that Sam saw the libraries as his failure at not getting Dean out of the deal earlier. They'd been his first sanctuary, once. Dean was going to make sure it'd go back to that.

And a restaurant? That would be Dean's general place to hide; somewhere with a good cup of coffee and a quiet atmosphere to think. The cemetery was a no go: even absorbed in his own thoughts and fears, Sam would _not_ enter a cemetery alone. Especially without weapons, and he hadn't taken any with him when he'd run.

Dean pulled at the wheel, sending it flying around to the left. The car slid slightly on the road in a U turn, then flew off in the direction he'd just come. The main road was only a few blocks back, and he could hop that to the hotel.

Because _that_ would be where his little brother would hole up. Worse, he'd probably find a different hotel to hide in, which meant he had to get his things.

Not if Dean got to him first, he wouldn't.

He was there in less than five minutes, putting the car in park a few doors down from their room. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see movement behind the curtains. He pursed his lips and stepped out, his hand on the doorknob before he knew it.

The door was pushed open, revealing Sam packing his bag. At the sound of the door squeaking open, he turned, eyes widening at the sight of Dean. His eyes were red, his skin pale and paling further. His cheeks looked damp, and Dean could see his hands trembling slightly even as he stopped packing.

Sam was not dealing. At all. He was scared and panicked and running, and that last one alone had Dean taking a silent breath in and standing taller. Sam had been the strong point between the two of them for the past few weeks, but that wasn't happening today.

Today, Dean was going to have to be the strong one again, play big brother and calming influence. As daunting as it would've seemed before, Sam's fear made the task as easy as stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Going somewhere?" Dean asked, and he kept his tone casual and soft. Sam didn't know why the hell he wasn't yelling yet, or running in fear. He sounded like he was talking to a spooked animal, _animal_, and that thought had him turning back to his bag, swallowing hard.

"I can't...I can't stay. I need to leave. Before..." He swallowed again as two tears fell from his eyes. "I meant to be gone by the time you came back."

"I figured as much," Dean said, stepping forward again. "But maybe you can explain to me why you need to leave."

Sam turned damp eyes towards him, his entire expression incredulous. "You're not serious, are you?" Dean said nothing, merely gazing at him. "You heard what it said back there."

"Demons lie-"

"No! It wasn't lying," Sam said, and Dean fell silent. Sam turned away from the bag and bed, hands on his hips, clenching and releasing. "It..."

God but this was hard. Even now, even after having admitted it to himself, he didn't want to have to be the one to tell Dean. "It wasn't lying," he said again, softer this time. He stayed turned away, towards the back of the room. If he wasn't looking at Dean, then maybe he could get this out.

And then Dean would probably flinch and jerk away from Sam's path to the door. Sam winced at the image and possibility.

"The yellow eyed demon showed me that night, years ago? When I was a baby? It...it fed me some of its blood." His innocence shattered before he'd even been able to walk or _talk_. His eyes burned, and he clenched them shut tightly.

"When?"

Sam swallowed past the rock in his throat. "The night I...that Jake and I fought." And Sam had lost more than his life because of that fight.

"So you did know. Before you knew that I'd made the deal."

Eyes still closed, Sam merely nodded. "So it was mixing lies with truth," Dean continued, voice still soft. "That's the truth part: the demon part's the lie."

Sam turned around, his heart sinking at the determination on his brother's face. Dean was in full denial, and Sam didn't want to be the one to break him of it. "You don't understand," he said quietly, wishing he could strong enough to deal with all of this, like he'd been strong enough for Dean all these weeks, find a way to put this behind him and deal without falling apart.

How the hell did you put being a demon behind you?

Dean merely raised an eyebrow. "I think I'm the one understanding here, Sam. You're the one who's locked into this thing of 'I'm a demon'."

"I _am_," Sam said through gritted teeth, his voice shaking. "I have _demon blood_ inside of me, Dean. You've seen what I can do because of it! That's not normal."

"Sam, nothing we do is normal," Dean argued, and Sam bit his bottom lip even as he closed his eyes and shook his head. "You're a psychic, not-"

"I'm one of the things that hurt you, down there," Sam said as he moved forward into Dean's space. "_I'm part of that_. I'm the reason you went down there, and I'm just like one of the damn things that freakin' _hooked_ you, hurt you, made your life literally a living _Hell_-"

Dean caught him by his shirt, and Sam waited for Dean to throw him aside, to hit him, to toss him outside, but not pull him in so his forehead was against Dean's. "_I_ was the reason I went down there," Dean said, his voice low and sure. "That was my choice. _Mine_. And I'd do it all over again if I had to. _You_ were the reason I got back out, got back on solid ground in more ways than one. I'm living again, physically and mentally, because of _you_.

"And I know my brother. Better than anyone else. I don't care if yellow eyes fed you a few drops or a frickin' _gallon_ of demon blood. You're not a demon. Besides the fact that you've been able to cross over salt lines, touch holy water, and recite exorcisms without being harmed, I'd know, okay? _I'd know_. You're a psychic, Sammy, which yeah, might have happened because of the whole demon blood thing. But you are _not_ a demon."

"You could be wrong," Sam found himself whispering. Even though his mind was still going over the facts both the demon and Dean had provided, his heart and soul were already begging to believe him. "I could be something that could hurt you, something you'd be afraid of."

Dean's hand slid up to rest against the side of Sam's neck, thumb lightly pressing over his cheek. "I could be wrong, yeah. You could've changed a lot because of the blood. Honestly, though, I still wouldn't care."

"Wouldn't-!"

"You stood by me when I changed," Dean said quietly. "I was a complete one-eighty of who I was before I went to Hell, and you still stood by me, still stand by me even now. Do you honestly think, even if you did change, became someone no one else would recognize, that I'd leave you? That I'd let you leave?"

No, he wouldn't, and Sam closed his eyes, feeling the last vestiges of fear fall away with fresh tears.

Dean shifted slightly, but kept his contact points solid. "And the one thing I'm sure of, more than anything else, is that you'd never turn into someone that would hurt me. It's not gonna happen, Sam. And I will _never_ be afraid of you. Ever."

"Promise?" Sam asked, eyes opening and focusing on Dean. Dean, who was logic and understanding and stability, and as much as Sam never minded being there for Dean or being the strong one between them, _god_ but he was glad Dean was playing big brother again.

Dean smiled. "Promise." His smile quirked into a grin as he added, "And hey, I've seen you in the mornings, dude: you growl and play cave bear, I swear. If I'm not afraid of you then, I won't ever be."

Sam gasped out a watery laugh, let Dean shift and pull him in closer. Dean's hand slid to join the other one behind Sam, and Sam's own hands reached up to cling and wrap around Dean's jacket.

Through the window, he could see the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. He gazed at it, feeling lighter than he had in far too long.

* * *

The next hunt was routine, right up to the part where they both headed back to the hotel room, bloody and bruised. Sam made sure Dean was patched up first, then let Dean tend to the scratches across his back. A small idea popped, and even as he cleaned up his brother, he caught a small amount of Sam's blood on the side of the antibacterial bottle. He moved the sample to a plastic cup the hotel offered, and hid it, covered, in his bag before Sam emerged from the bathroom, his small shower done.

Two days later, they headed to a pharmacy to restock on supplies. Dean made his way to the back and asked nicely if they had a microscope he could borrow. It took him less than thirty seconds to confirm, and he made his way back to Sam, who'd just finished paying.

Dean slid behind the wheel of the car and casually tossed Sam the slide, contained in a small plastic bag. "What's this?"

"Yours," Dean said, and Sam's fingers tightened around it. "You won't be making any gunpowder out of your blood; sorry to disappoint, oh sulfur-less one."

The hand on his shoulder had been totally expected. Dean glanced over at Sam, finding brimming eyes and a genuine smile of relief on his face.

Dean returned the smile, then turned back and started up the car. "You ready to head out?"

"More than." Confident and sure again, and Dean felt his smile grow.

"Good."

END


End file.
